The Transmigrant

by Kristi Saare Duarte

  Nothing could have prepared Yeshua for his first glimpse of the self-appointed preacher dressed in a camel-hair tunic, standing up to his waist in the middle of the river. With his long and tangled hair, he resembled a madman more than the Messiah. Hundreds of devotees sang and chanted around him. Some twirled in a wild dance as if possessed. Yeshua sat on a boulder at a safe distance to observe him. Abba would have ridiculed this jester, but Yeshua watched him with keen interest.

  One by one, the believers waded into the river, their heads hung low. The Baptizer reached his palms toward the sky and spoke in garbled speech, with words that made no sense. But just like Sanskrit mantras, the power of the words seemed magical.

  The Baptizer cupped the chin of the man before him and whispered something in his ear. With his other hand, he scooped up water, splashed it over the man’s head, and dunked him backward under the water before he brought him back up in one quick motion. Holding the man by the shoulders, the Baptizer yelled something to the heavens before he sent the believer off. The crowd roared with excitement.

  Yeshua moved closer to better hear the words the Baptizer spoke to the next man in line.

  “And God will punish all sinners. He will send his ax to cut down trees that do not bear fruit. Come, all weak and lost souls, and be baptized. Be purified in God’s name!”

  Some of the newly baptized wept, others jumped with joy. Out of curiosity, Yeshua joined the line of those waiting to be baptized.

  When at last his turn arrived, Yeshua entered the river and lowered his head before the holy man. The Baptizer extended his hands toward the sky and shouted, “Lord, wash away this man’s sins. O, most sacred Creator, let the water cleanse his wrongdoings, his misdeeds. Accept him as your son who loves you!” He took Yeshua’s face in his hands. “My son, confess your sins, and you will be baptized in the name of God. Share what you have with those who have nothing. Abstain from sedatives like wine and fermented drinks. Do not eat or sacrifice animals. And—”

  The Baptizer stopped midsentence.

  Meeting his eyes, Yeshua noticed something familiar about the Baptizer’s freckled face. It reminded him of someone he had known once. A friend?

  “Yeshua?” With a guttural laugh, the Baptizer shook Yeshua’s shoulders, then nudged him back to see better. “Mother of a lizard, it is you!”

  Yeshua frowned. How did the Baptizer know his name? Who was he? Wait—could it be…Yochanan? Uncle Zekharyah’s son?

  Before Yeshua could speak, Yochanan swept him up in his arms and hugged him tight. Then he turned to the astounded onlookers and shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear, “This man was lost in the desert, but he has come home. Thanks to Adonai.” Still grinning, Yochanan scooped up water from the river, splashed it over Yeshua’s head, and dunked him. Yeshua sank willingly. He allowed the water to cleanse him, like the holy Mother Ganges once had. God entered his soul. The light in his heart spread through his body and connected with everyone on the banks of the river. Heaven.

  His trance broke only when Yochanan lifted him from the water to the cries of “God has saved you, sinner!” all around him.

  In a daze, he waded to the riverbank and succumbed to the shaving ritual. Once again, he allowed a sharp knife to cut away his past as the token of a new beginning and submission to God. He sat among the other initiates to relish the ecstasy of the already baptized and the anticipation of those still in line. God hadn’t deserted him after all. God had led him here.

  Yeshua stayed a few days to observe his cousin, trying to understand why someone destined for priesthood had given up a life of respect to become a wandering preacher. Had he also become disillusioned with the limitations of Yehudi law?

  Though newly baptized, most of the Nazirites remained burdened by daily worries. They could not feed their families. They were harassed by the Sadducees and the Romans. Some had family troubles, an abusive husband or a wife who was sleeping with the money changer. Yeshua did his best to console them.

  “Listen, the poor are the truly blessed, because only you have access to God’s Kingdom,” he said after hearing their woes. “The rich spend their lives worrying about losing their money and their possessions. They suffer because the more they have, the more they want. What they have is never enough. But those who have little appreciate all they have and gladly make room for God in their hearts.”

  “Where is God’s Kingdom?” they asked.

  “Right here. And everywhere. It’s in every land, in every village. Some people just can’t see it.”

  But Yochanan’s followers believed that the end of the world was imminent. They waited for a magical warrior, a Messiah who would banish the Romans from their land and catapult the Yehudim to paradise. They expected thunderbolts and men walking on water, not a message as subtle as Yeshua’s: that everything they saw was an illusion and that heaven could be found only inside.

  Disappointed, Yeshua left the Nazirites and wandered aimlessly around the lower banks of the River Jordan. He had no idea what to do and where to go from here. One morning, after spending the night in the company of Samarian shepherds, he woke up thinking about Pema. She had found all her answers while meditating in a cave in the mountains, all by herself. The Buddha had spent forty days and forty nights alone in the wilderness searching for enlightenment. And so had Moses.

  He laughed out loud. The solution became as clear as the blue sky above: isolation. All his life, he had been surrounded by others. Coming home, he had expected to sweep in and be welcomed with open arms by people eager to be enlightened. But no one was looking for enlightenment. They were quite content to suffer under Roman rule and receive only the crumbs of God that the rabbi shared. Were all his years of learning a waste? Should he return to the Parthian Empire and continue teaching there?

  No, he did belong in Palestine. His mission was here.

  Yeshua crossed the hills to the Samarian desert and set down his mat between cacti and rocks in a vast area inhabited by nothing but reptiles. He would stay here and meditate until God showed him the way. And although his stomach already screamed with hunger, he silenced the pain. If the holy men in Benares no longer needed food or drink to survive, neither did he.

  He sat down, closed his eyes, and waited. And waited. Ignoring the protests of his empty belly, he focused on the true existence, the one so different from the world before his eyes. The moon rose and traveled across a boundless sky. Birds woke to greet him with their songs. Lizards scurried across the sand into the shadows of the cacti, waiting for the relentless sun to give way.

  Countless days later, weakened by the heat and the lack of food and water, his mind drifted in and out of delirium. He fixated on a brown stone by his feet. “If you’re that special,” a voice in his head challenged, “why don’t you turn that rock into a loaf of bread?” Yeshua shook his head to clear his mind. “Look at the world,” the inner voice provoked. “Look at it!”

  In an instant, Yeshua found himself floating high above his body, looking down at the rawboned man sitting cross-legged in the middle of an immense desert. He saw the land of Palestine from Judea to Galilee, the glittering sea, the mountains of Mesopotamia, the entire world. “This belongs to you,” the voice tempted. “You can be the master of it all.”

  Yeshua crashed back into his body. He was going mad. Water. He chewed on his dry tongue and smacked his parched lips. He needed water. Blinded by the scorching sun above, he blinked. What was that in front of him? A cactus. Liquid. If he broke off one of its arms… But no, he couldn’t give up. The Buddha had been challenged by demons in the desert—the same demons that tempted him. “I can’t,” Yeshua rasped. “I’m not a master. Only God can be the master.”

  At once a brilliant light enveloped him and he connected with God, free of body and free of his ever-doubting mind. Free of duties and free of expectations. Free of wants and needs. Free of hunger and thirst. At one with God and all beings.

  His father appeared as a warm gust of wind and bathed him
with love. Yeshua absorbed his presence and felt his father’s approval sanctify him. And then he knew: Abba hadn’t despised the traveling preachers, he had feared them. They had threatened his faith in God.

  Don’t be afraid, my son, Abba said, his voice caressing Yeshua’s soul. God speaks through everyone. If you act with love, God will show you the way.

  Yeshua’s heart opened, exploding with gratitude. The message was as clear as the purest wind: God spoke through all living beings, not just him. Everyone played a part in fulfilling the universal plan. And at last he understood what his teachers had tried to tell him—the path of serving God was not for him alone. It was for everyone. No one had to be led away from the Torah, their faith in Yahweh, and their traditions. God did not want him to remove or disturb anyone’s beliefs. His message should be simple. He would remind them about the nonviolence and compassion taught in the Torah while following the highest ideals of the Law of Moses. A smile cracked his dry lips. At last he was free of the need to change and convince others. And God would show him the way when the time was right. All he needed was to let go of his plans and let God take control.

  “Never leave me again,” Ama pleaded when he returned home. He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. But he couldn’t promise anything. Wherever God led him, he would follow.

  Early one summer morning, during his daily walk along the shores of Lake Kinneret, he saw two fishermen far out on the lake. They threw their net out again and again to spread it as wide as possible, then pulled it back into the boat. Sometimes the net came back loaded with fish; other times it was nearly empty. A flush of warmth spread through Yeshua. A sign. He would throw out his net to people, and whoever wanted to hear his message would come with him. Those who didn’t could just swim away. If he only used the words of Lord Buddha and Krishna without naming them, perhaps people would listen.

  When the fishermen returned to shore, he approached them. “You caught many fish today.”

  The men looked up for a moment, and then continued to unload the fish.

  “Your catch was plentiful,” he tried again.

  “Not plentiful enough.”

  “But your boat is full of fish.”

  “Not full enough.” They were simple fishermen, ignorant of the Holy Scriptures. Very similar to the peasants he had spoken to in Benares and Kapilavatthu.

  “What if I told you I could teach you how to catch more fish and how to always get what you want?”

  The fishermen laughed as they continued to empty their nets.

  “Come and listen. I will make it worth your while.”

  The men shook their heads.

  “I’ll buy a basket of fish if you give me a few moments of your time.”

  They looked at each other. The market wouldn’t open for a good while, and selling a basket of fish this early would give them a head start on the day’s sales.

  After hanging their nets over their boat to dry, the three men sat on the rocks at the water’s edge, with their feet cooling in the waves.

  In the months that followed, Yeshua met with the fishermen every day at dawn. He helped them clean their nets, told them stories, and taught them how to open their hearts. When their catch grew bigger day by day, they called their friends to listen.

  “Ask, and you will be given,” Yeshua said. “He who expects will receive.” Old man Zebedee’s sons soon joined the group of fishermen-students.

  “God makes everything possible,” he said, aware that he had made a connection. The men listened, mesmerized, as if afraid to break the spell. “In God’s Kingdom, we are all wealthy. We can all have what we want. And the kingdom is right here.”

  “Where?” one of Zebedee’s sons wanted to know.

  “Here,” Yeshua said, patting his chest. “You can’t see it, I know, but if you believe in it, anything’s possible. The Kingdom of God is like a treasure buried in a field. You can work the land for years and never know the treasure is right underneath your feet. You won’t find the incredible wealth inside you until you dig, deep down.”

  “When will I be rich, then?”

  Yeshua nodded, pleased that they were asking questions.

  “There are more important things to worry about in life than what you eat and what you own. Think of the ravens. They neither plant, nor harvest, nor store their food—and still God feeds them. And don’t you think that you, as men, matter at least as much to God as birds do? Believe me when I say that worrying is a useless habit. It makes you anxious and unhealthy. And worry does not solve any problem; it enhances it. Relax and trust in God. He knows you must eat. He will provide for you.”

  “But surely God loves the rich more than he loves us.”

  Yeshua shook his head.

  “No, he doesn’t. In fact, you—the poor—are the most blessed by God because you are much closer to his kingdom.”

  News of Yeshua’s teachings by the lake spread through Capernaum. When people came to see, some were disappointed to find a common Galilean in a simple linen robe speaking to the poorest of people. There was nothing sensational about Yeshua. But he spoke of God’s Kingdom as if he knew it well, and he claimed that its portals were open to everyone.

  The local rabbis heard about his gatherings and came to see for themselves.

  “What good news do you speak of? The end of the world is nigh. You had better prepare,” they shouted from a safe distance.

  Yeshua filled his heart with love for them. “God’s Kingdom will not come because you wait for it. It’s not a matter of saying ‘Here it is’ or ‘There it is.’ It’s already here—everywhere.”

  The rabbis didn’t believe him.

  “Are you claiming, then, that the Messiah has already come? You believe he is the Baptizer, don’t you?”

  “I’ll tell you a story,” Yeshua continued, ignoring their questions. “Once there was a farmer who had a handful of seeds to plant. He threw them out over a large field. Some of the seeds were caught in the wind, landed on the road, and were eaten by the birds. Others fell on stones where the seeds could not take root, or got caught on thorny bushes where worms ate them. But a few seeds fell on good soil, sprouted, and grew into healthy plants that produced an abundance of fruit.”

  The listeners waited.

  “You see, you are those seeds. Whoever has ears will hear.”

  Yeshua’s simple lessons made sense, and although the fishermen didn’t always understand his words, they noticed their lives had improved little by little. Not only did they catch more fish and make more money, but they also overcame their anxieties and became more patient with their wives and children. Once they viewed themselves as equal to both noblemen and beggars, their lives became easier. They no longer feared the Romans or the rabbis because they recognized a light within every person they met that was of God.

  And they felt protected.

  Chapter Twenty-NINE

  Capernaum, Galilee, AD 27

  “Why must you leave again?” his mother cried when he announced he was taking his disciples on a journey around the lake. “Why can you never be still? You’re always wandering, always looking for an answer. Can’t you stay here with your brothers, marry, have children—”

  “I’m too old to find a wife.” Yeshua kissed her graying hair.

  “Nonsense! Your father was older than you when we wed. And he was a good husband. How dare you say your abba was too old?”

  “I know, Ama, he was a wonderful father. But look at you, all alone. I can’t leave a wife to care for the children if I die.”

  “Your sons can look after your wife.”

  “And if I have only daughters? Who will make sure they marry into a good family?”

  “That’s why you have younger brothers.”

  Yeshua shook his head and continued packing. “They have their own families to care for, their own responsibilities. Besides, who says I’ll be the first to go?”

  “Iosa has no family.”

  It was true. His brot
her Iosa had never married and had no children. He made a decent income as a tailor, making exquisite garments for affluent families all over Galilee, Samaria, and Judea. He could take care of Yeshua’s wife. But it was all speculative: there was no wife, and there were no children. Anyway, who would marry a traveling preacher? No man in his right mind would give away his daughter to a wanderer.

  Yeshua kissed his mother good-bye and slung his sack over his shoulder. “I’ll be back before you have time to miss me. Oh, and Yakov’s coming with me.”

  He closed the door before she had time to object. In the last few weeks, Yakov had become a regular participant at his gatherings. At first, like a typical younger brother, he had questioned everything Yeshua said. But last night something had changed. One of Yakov’s remarks had clarified the meaning of a parable. And when Yeshua suggested Yakov join him on a journey, his brother agreed without hesitation. Yeshua couldn’t be more thrilled. Yakov’s positive outlook on life and his injections of joy would be welcomed, especially among the sick and downtrodden. Yakov was his brother in flesh as well as in spirit, his equal among the others, who were more interested in witnessing miracles than anything else except perhaps catching more fish. Yeshua smiled when he thought of his disciples: they lived for those darn fish.

  “My brothers,” Yeshua said to the fishermen at the shore. “I know you all have mouths to feed, but listen: we are going on a journey around the lake to teach the people in the other villages. Will you come with us?”

  They all agreed and rushed home to tell their wives. Three of the fishermen—Andreas, Ioannes, and Shimon—returned a while later with their belongings rolled into neat bundles. Only one man returned empty-handed, looking as if his best boat had sunk.

  “My wife said no.”

  The others laughed. What a pitiful man who obeys his wife, they chuckled.

  Yeshua looked at them, scratching his beard. “How can you see the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and not notice the huge branch in your own? Did you not promise to come with me wherever I go? Tell me, what is the difference between obeying me—and obeying a wife?”